


Then in the Light, I Will Find You

by Puniyo



Series: Code: Red Rain [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Sequel, Sexual abuse implied, abuse on strawberries, dystopian au, no tragic endings, sex with fruits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/pseuds/Puniyo
Summary: 'What is this?' Yuzuru extends his hands towards the sky.'It's rain.' Javier wishes he could drink of his tears for eternity.'It tastes like freedom.'A sequel toIn the Dark, the Soul Can't Hide





	Then in the Light, I Will Find You

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers, I'm seriously considering creating another series. I tell myself that I must stop at this sequel but I'm just falling in love with this universe. I'm saying this now, mark my words, because I had a shitty day and I'll probably forget about this later *sighs*
> 
> This is a sequel so obviously it would make more sense if you read [In the Dark, the Soul Can't Hide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253452) but even if you haven't, I guess you can figure things out. I'm just telling you also that I'm not one to give straight answers in my plots and I just happen to make more mysteries than solving them *headdesk*
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a pure work of FICTION. It is product of my mind and my head and nothing beyond that.

_‘Wait for me!’_

_‘You’re too slow Yuzuru.’_

_‘I’m not! Look, I can–‘_

_And he falls on the gelid surface, powdery ice adorning his knees. He is lucky that he is wearing gloves or else he would have cut himself in the sharp scrapes._

_‘What are you trying to do?’_

_‘I want to draw on the ice.’_

_‘Let’s go home.’_

_‘No. You go. I’ll stay.’_

_‘There is nothing under here.’_

_Yuzuru circles the frozen lake in serpentine patterns, carving shapes that turn into sketches of flowers, his edges carving the petals and the stems._

_‘She is so lonely, Saya.’_

_‘It’s too dangerous. You can’t hide from them here.’_

_‘She was there,’ he points to a darker patch of ice, azure like a mantle of lapis lazuli, ‘I saw the faces of children laughing, of ship builders tying their masts for the next coordinates, of men who kissed on the lips and not on the cheeks.’_

_‘The sun is setting.’_

_‘Come, I’ll show you where.’_

_Yuzuru skates away in a hurry, worried that his spot where history unfurled like an open book would be gone._

_‘Wait Yuzuru! It’s too dangerous!’_

_‘Yuzuru.’_

_‘Yuzuru.’_

_‘Yuzuru!’_

 

 

‘Yuzuru.’

His body sways back and forth in the cypress swing, the light breeze caressing his eyelashes and nose with the momentum. He must have fallen asleep.

‘Javier.’ He still has his eyes closed, the new voice a lullaby since the first day he had heard it. Even behind white sterile walls, that timbre had woven a spell and he willingly fulfilled the enchantment. ‘Call me again.’

‘Yuzuru.’

‘Again.’

‘Yuzuru.’

‘One more time.’

‘ _Yuzuru_.’ Javier sits next to him, the coming inertia stopping the swing. How many days had it been since they had escaped? One day? One month? One year? Yuzuru’s arm had completely healed, just a tiny scar that broke the ivory skin around his wrist. If only that was the price they had to pay. ‘Spoiled brat. Open your eyes before it’s gone.’

He slowly lifted his eyelids, the surge of light not too strong to force him back to the darkness but it still made him blink a few times, like a newborn out of the womb. Yuzuru was one – out of a world of nothing to the universe he had always known but lost and never to be recovered.

‘It’s beautiful.’

A yolk held high in the horizon amidst clouds of laced cotton. The sky shone in orange, warm and cool at the same time, tanned by flames that burned since morning that would recede in the evening. There were streaks of faint pink, the same shade that overtook his cheeks every time Javier kissed his scar. _To fade faster_ , he would say. _Please never heal_ , Yuzuru wished.

He extends his hand, hiding the sun completely from his sight. He clutches his fingers, wanting to catch it and save it in his pocket. He could use it as candlelight when he went to sleep or when the night came in its full splendor. But as he closed his phalange bones, the star just seeped between his fingers.

‘This is all mine.’

‘All yours?’ Javier imitated the same gestures, his grip softening and releasing the air, and air only. Nothing else he could grasp and make of it his prisoner.

‘All mine.’

‘Where is my share?’

Yuzuru stood up and stretched his numb legs. A deep growl escaped his lips, like a lynx, like the purr of a leopard, loud and feral, content and irresistible.

‘You’re included in it.’

 

 

_‘So the boy can’t speak.’_

_‘He can.’_

_‘But he won’t.’_

_He sits in the bed, knees to his chest, his arms enveloping the legs, trying to protect himself from the blinding whiteness. The sheets were cotton and linen, comfortable but white. The walls were new, he could still smell the glossy paint, all four corners in white. He dared not touch the floor, rough on his feet but free of germs, of bacteria, of anything that had life, of anything that wasn’t white._

_‘What will make him speak?’_

_‘He can cry.’_

_And he could hear them too._

_‘Don’t hurt him.’_

_‘He must speak.’_

_‘He has the power of the Sight.’_

_‘That is useless unless he talks.’_

_‘Wait.’_

_‘Until when? Until your eyes fall and bounce on the floor? Until my dog walks by and feeds on lumps of your putrid fingers that will fall but he won’t even bite because there is really nothing? Until your blood calcifies and clogs your heart and make your arteries explode?’_

_‘Don’t hurt the boy.’_

_‘Hurt him? I worship him!’_

_‘He will speak.’_

_‘Blindfold him.’_

_Oh, how he hated the blindfold and the way they pulled him back, yanking him by the hair, tying the piece of cloth, disinfected and aseptic, reeking of industrialized alcohol. It burned his pupils and tore his hearing with the knot that was too tight it compressed his cranium._

_‘He can’t see us.’_

_But he could trace their deformed bodies and crippled limbs, their crooked joints and the protruding bones in all the wrong places. He could apprehend the worms gnawing at their cells as if they were crawling in his own skin, and he flinched, turning left, right, back,_ somewhere _where he wouldn’t be eaten alive._

_To see or not to see – there was only one way he would be blind for eternity._

_‘Please don’t make him cry.’_

_He swore he would never cry though._

 

 

The hammering of the plastic of Brian’s keyboard is loud and resonates throughout the small room he is in. It is tiny, only enough for a similar minuscule desk, his own rotating chair and a potted cactus with a fuchsia bud on top that resembled a lettuce next to the monitor. He taps a few times on the screen, the error message still popping up until the alarm of his security window jolts him to quickly sever the connection.

Since when was a password a challenge for him?

He takes a deep breath, his fingers trying to massage away the frown in his forehead, his eyes red of fatigue and from the artificial light. Four minutes – the time he had to wait until another window of ghost anonymity was given to him. He was doing this for Javier. He had to find the file before the brash, foul-mouthed son of his could. Better break his sanity before Javier broke his own.

Brian hears upcoming footsteps, lighter than the usual and his hand is drawn automatically to his own _Sauer_ , fully loaded.

Nowhere was safe in this world. Not even in one’s brain. Especially in one’s mind.

‘Sorry Brian,’ Yuzuru stops at the door, half his silhouette in and half on the outside, not knowing how to retract his movements, ‘I was looking for Javi.’

‘He won’t be back until later. You might be sleeping perhaps.’ The way the boy tried to recoil in his own shell was testimony of his isolation and lack of human contact. His hands relax immediately the grip he had on the trigger guard.

‘I will… I will find _Effie_ then.’

‘Stay Yuzuru. She’s here. Have a seat.’

Yuzuru sits on the turquoise carpet, choosing the floor as a force of habit. The tapestry wasn’t perfectly clean but he preferred it this way. He crosses his legs and Effie jumped to his lap, the whiskers of her cheeks brushing on his exposed wrist as she nudges on his elbow and rests her long calico tail on his thigh.

‘She really likes you.’

Brian glances at the screen again. One minute left.

‘Thank you for saving me.’

‘You should thank Javier.’

‘I could still be there and never see a sunset again.’

‘Does the light still hurt you?’

Yuzuru shakes his head in negation. He pets Effie’s paws, the minimal ridges in the pads, and moves to her growing belly, a place he knew she loved to be tickled and her oversensitive nipples massaged, because the Effie copies would soon be born and feed on them.

‘I know who you are Yuzuru.’

‘Then you should know they would have never come for me.’ He places a chaste kiss on the cat’s wet nose and Effie relents on the fleeting brush of his lips, the trilling chirrup she makes a request for more. ‘Does Javi know?’

The green window flashes on the corner of his monitor and Brian resumes the mechanical typing, trying to focus both on the string of symbols and numbers racing from one side to the other and on the boy on the floor, who suddenly didn’t seem so much of a boy but a young man, shoulders slouching forward, his body tense in its automatic defense system.

‘About this?’ He points a finger to his temple.

Yuzuru nods. His eyes have turned darker, a mixture of emotions Brian knows not if it’s guilt or fear, or an amalgamation of both. ‘About _that_.’

‘He doesn’t.’

‘Will he ever find out?’

‘That’s a choice you have to make.’

‘Will he mind?’

‘That’s is already his choice.’

Yuzuru lifts Effie carefully and places her on the nearby ottoman, she meowing in protest and trying to climb his forearms again but falling under the weight of her swollen womb. He tickles her ears, the way only she let him do it and says something with Javier’s name that Brian couldn’t discern.

The error message pops up again. The older man lets his impatience seep through his fingers and he presses the space bar a little too vigorous, even when his poker face tells otherwise.

‘ _Nervus_ is an old system. It won’t let the new angels easily defeat the wall of demons it erected since that time.’ Yuzuru approaches the tiny desk, his nails hitting the top in an annoying rhythm. He plucks out a withered thorn from the cactus. ‘The password is…’

 

 

_‘So Javier Fernández, exquisite name.’_

_‘No more than yours.’_

_‘Do you know mine?’_

_‘Not at all. I don’t think I would remember it.’_

_‘Are you saying I’m not worth being remembered?’_

_Javier clicks his tongue, his whole body slouching in the back of the vintage armchair. What would it be this time – murder, theft, rape, extorsion? He could as well throw the dice and let fate choose._

_‘What are the rules this time?’_

_‘Rules?’_

_‘You know, don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t get near the blue shirts, don’t step on the green shirts, don’t fuck the silver shirts even with a condom. What are your rules?’_

_‘My rules?’_

_He stood up immediately, the game of question upon question snapping his patience (that he never had) and he prepares to leave. A sharp pain, like a thick needle, bursts in his frontal lobe, the ramifications of the spasm spreading down to his nose, his teeth, his neck. It jolts his spine and he sits again, not allowing his face to betray the excruciating suffering he is hiding._

_‘There are no rules.’_

_‘Should I thank you for your enlightening kindness?’_

_‘You have quite the voice Javier.’_

_‘It is mine.’_

_‘Yes, truly yours. Suave, the perfect trickster.’_

_‘Are you going to tell me you love it now?’_

_‘Oh I do. I really do.’_

_Javier sees a smirk on the stoic face of the women sat under the window, basking in the sunlight, and it sends a shiver directly to his gut and his legs, her cold stare truly frightening and daunting, even behind the large red frames of her glasses._

_‘You see, Javier, I do have a rule. I like to_ destroy _the things I love.’_

_‘You can’t change who I am.’_

_‘But I can change the way you are. I can change your mind, I can change how colors are filtered in that grey mass of neurons, I can change the memories you cherish the most and make the worst your recurring nightmares.’ She lights a cigarette and offers to Javier who accepts it almost as an order. ‘You see Javier, in the end, you might not even know who you truly are.’_

_He takes a drag of the long, brown stick and he coughs almost instantly. The smoke is coarse and it attacks the sides of his throat. The tobacco is strong but tampered with chemicals he knows are not the same as the ones he usually buys._

_‘Now, we wouldn’t want you to ruin your voice, would we?’_

 

 

Javier doesn’t like what he sees in front of the mirror. His hair had grown quite long, his hazelnut curls draping over his earlobes and his eyes like a wide curtain he had to push aside to make sure he wouldn’t fall when walking. His beard too had taken possession of his cheeks and jaws, alternating between lighter ridges of gold with darker ones of chestnut. He is skillful with the razor blade, a few swipes downwards, and beneath the lemon scented cream he can spot again his white skin, not tanned as he wished but not pale as well.

_A gentleman, aren’t we?_

No, he is not, and the razor drops into the pool of remnants of cream, soap and stubble. He doesn’t take long to find the scissors in the cabinet and as he holds the particularly out of the place locks, pulling them towards the mirror (and almost the roots with the sheer force he was employing) into his field of vision. He cuts them in one swift release of tension, the hundreds of chocolate strands falling to the porcelain sink, to the water, to the tiles and some clinging to his T-shirt.

The result isn’t great either. The floor is a mess so is his head, an amateur cut, damaged ends with healthy portions that had just grown. Javier laughs at his own reflection, an immature gesture for a man like him. A man, he thinks. He wonders if he is still a man or just another version of the software that they had forgotten to update.

_Not my voice, please!_

He raises the scissor, open, the twin blades resting on top of his throat, nested just above the Adam’s apple. Just a little more, a small nudge and it would go in. It would slash his muscles and his vocal chords but it would be still be his voice, wouldn’t it?

‘What are you doing?’

Yuzuru rests his shoulders at the door frame, arms drawn together to his chest, his hips swinging forward and back.

‘Nothing. It was just a thought of the _machine_.’ Javier retreats the sharp weapon, the loop suddenly weighting excessively on his thumb.

‘This,’ the younger man cups his shaved face to his direction, their eyes locking into each other, obsidians on jaspers, ‘this looks awful.’

Javier bursts into laughter, the explosion of giggles hauling the muscles of his jaw to the point it hurt but it only made him laugh even more. It is an uninhibited laughter, roaring, so familiar and yet he thought it was stolen from him.

‘I love your voice.’ Yuzuru’s hands descend to his neck, gripping the protruding cartilage, echoing all the swallowing motion to his own body. There is a faint red line where the blade was just now, just irritated skin but no bruise. ‘I love when you call my name.’

‘It is not mine.’

‘Everything is yours Javier. _They_ didn’t change it.’

He opens his mouth to protest but there is only the sharp intake of breath to his lungs. Yuzuru has his eyes closed and Javier notices how his eyelashes almost touch his own cheeks, how he bites his lower lip when he is focused and how his feet can’t be quiet for a single second, his hyperactivity almost infecting him.

‘It’s perfect. Your voice. It’s perfect for me.’

Yuzuru opens his eyes again and smiles, the pink tip of his tongue out in an invitation. He picks up the abandoned scissor and raises it to his own temples.

‘What are you doing?’

A lock of black hair, straight and sleek strands, falls onto their arms. A disheveled, uneven fringe adorned Yuzuru’s forehead. He blows the residual ringlets on the blades to the sink.

‘It doesn’t look so awful now, does it?’

‘ _Stupid_.’

Javier can see his tongue again. It reminded him of a strawberry.

 

 

‘Are you tired?’

Yuzuru shook his head, rubbing his eyes. It must be from the pollen or an allergy. It was frequent his headaches, now more than when he was enclosed in complete whiteness. He could see the immediate plane but also the etchings and shadows miles away. His heart jumped, the arrhythmic pace so different from Javier’s serene one when they were together – perhaps something was wrong with him.

‘Let’s stay a little longer.’

It was afternoon, another sunset, and they both sat on the grass, a short walk from their home where no one would find them, not even they. The basil and apple mint were already in full bloom, leaving the air with a surreptitious spicy aroma. Yuzuru picks up a leaf, velvety on his fingertips, and he inhales deeply.

‘You have to stop doing that.’ Javier disagrees so much with his own words he thinks he has become a compulsory liar. Mint and basil, lemon and vanilla, lime and cinnamon – he bet every single part of Yuzuru had its own flavor and there was no task harder than restraining his own twisted lucidity before he sank his teeth and drank of all the nectar in that slender body.

‘What was that?’

‘What?’

The young man points to the amber sky. Another lightning ray descend from the clouds like a branch of an old tree. Another one, an arrow straight to heart of the copse in front of them. A loud rumble follows. Yuzuru flinches, the single leaf of mint falling to his knees.

‘It’s just thunder.’ The cacophony continues, near and far away beyond the horizon, melodies of boulders falling from a precipice to waves crashing into the shore. ‘We must go, a storm is coming.’

The first few raindrops, infinitesimal and almost invisible, fall on Yuzuru’s hair, settling in his own darkness as morning dew. He extends his hand forward, the rain now quickening its tempo and droplets lapse onto the palm of his hands, the inside of his elbow, the tip of his nose. He darts his tongue out, the pink fleshy organ gathering a few of ringlets and wetting his lips. It tastes nothing, just water, but then it’s slightly sweet and then astringent.

‘Yuzuru?’

He blames the sudden outpour for his blurred vision but as he blinks, eyelashes meeting the sensitive perimeter of his eyes, he tastes salt and not sugar.

‘What is… _this_?’

Javier swipes away the tears from Yuzuru’s cheeks. They don’t stop, each bead following the other, and he licks them back to the source. He longed for a taste of them since he saw Yuzuru crying behind the wall of glass and he would have him crying forever if he was to drink of them for eternity.

‘It’s rain.’

‘Rain?’

Yuzuru looks to the sky, watching the stream hit his face, until the drizzle becomes a downpour and he falls back and extends his arms and legs apart. His clothes are soaked and cling to his body, becoming an extension of himself. He yells from the depths of his throat, a primordial cry, something Javier can’t decipher, until the raindrops invade his mouth and he coughs. Yuzuru laughs, his feet fiddling the shallow pools that had formed, splashing both of them with mud.

Freedom has a scent and it smells of sodden grass and crushed mint, damp earthy soil and wild chamomiles. He pulls Javier down and kisses him, sloppy and clumsy, the older man still finding the best angle to support himself. He tries to lift his chest but his hand slips and his tongue penetrates Yuzuru’s mouth, deep, tasting the enticing metallic piquancy of blood.

‘Yes, rain.’ He says amidst a play of chaste kisses and impossibly long ones. He finds Yuzuru’s flushed cheeks to be the best materialization of temptation he had ever seen. Raw and vulnerable but within his reach. He presses his hips down and a whimper escapes his lips. He can’t hide his desire.

Neither can Yuzuru.

It must be from the chilliness of the rain.

‘It tastes like freedom.’

Yuzuru tries to move but Javier has both his arms pinned above his head, lust speaking for itself but also tenderness and warmth. He wants to hear the cry again, the whimper, to hear him moan until more tears fall from his eyes. He too wants Yuzuru calling his name in his tenor voice.

‘Are you scared?’

‘Of freedom?’

‘Yes.’ Javier plants a quick kiss on Yuzuru’s neck, tracing the tiny brown mole there. He bites harsh on the collarbone until a crimson mark is there, rivalling his cheeks and one that rain couldn’t wash away. His hand pulls the soaked cotton fabric of his shirt up, nipples perked and trembling with the cold and even more when his tongue lavishes them in saliva and his fingers move south, past the well-toned abdomen to his navel.

Yuzuru is ticklish and he contorts in the caresses, the limited movement of his restrained body inevitably beguiling Javier. He opens his legs and he inhales sharply when he feels a hand there. He closes his eyes, almost as instinct.

‘Are you scared of me?’

‘No.’

Javier kisses Yuzuru again, tender but demanding. ‘Then why don’t you look at me?’

 

 

_‘Are you comfortable?’_

_Yuzuru doesn’t move._

_‘Would you like to lie down?’_

_He doesn’t respond but he sits on the bed until a pair of greasy hands push him to the pillow._

_‘I’m sorry.’_

_He bites his lower lip and his lungs fill too quickly with the sterile air that it hurts._

_‘Can you see us?’_

_He shakes his head, even if lying._

_‘We will not hurt you.’_

_‘We will_ never _hurt you.’_

_‘Spread your legs.’_

_The blindfold heightens his awareness and he knows there are three, four, more, there are more people out there looking at him and his nakedness. It’s humiliating. But he would not cry._

_‘Just be a nice boy.’_

_He widens the gap between his thighs just a little._

_‘More.’_

_He keeps still in that position, unable to move._

_‘I said MORE!’_

 

 

‘Do you want me to look at you?’

Javier slips his hands under the waistband of his drowned pants and briefs and grabs hold of some of his short pubic hairs. Yuzuru gasps for air but no sound comes out.

‘Are you reading my mind?’

‘You want to fuck me.’

‘How did you know?’

‘Because that’s my wish too.’

The hand plunges deeper and Yuzuru arches his back, searching for a more thorough contact. It was different, so different, he chanted to himself, the way his fingers pinched his balls and clenched around the tip, the yearning he had for releasing right there in his whole palm so it would burn his skin that way his own was ignited.

Seeing the bulge in Javier’s pants, Yuzuru mimicked the same movements and he brought their cocks together, their precum leaking and blending with sweat and rain. It was a real collision of flesh with flesh, not words of monsters that made him come in disgust. He was pure again, free from the disease and the shame. It was puffs of air washed by the water and tenor and baritone of the broken record of their names.

‘Don’t you dare close your eyes.’

Yuzuru nods in the same rhythm of their joined manhoods, Javier stopping for a second to observe the wanton in the younger’s man scarred wrist and the salacious sounds he was ripping from his throat. He leans in to kiss the plump lips, moist, swollen, just like the tip of his erection but he stops when notices a few red, unspoiled wild strawberries a few inches away from Yuzuru’s shoulders.

_I would feed it to your cock if I could._

‘You’re wrong Yuzuru.’ He picks them up almost savagely, stalks and leaves, and he tastes one. Sour, virgin, only a hint of sugariness in them. ‘It doesn’t taste like freedom.’

‘What?’

Yuzuru moans loud as he feels the fruits crushed around his erection and Javier licks the juices, his own and the strawberries, in a languid dash of his tongue from the base to the tip, sucking on the tip, mixing the seeds with the pearly drops of his semen.

‘ _This_ tastes like freedom.’

‘Feed it to me.’

Yuzuru opens his mouth, drinking of the rain while he waits for the fruit that never comes. Javier is on the verge of coming at the sight of those parted lips and hazed eyes, the subtle spasms of the sinews of his pelvis, the pulsating throbs of his cock on his tongue.

‘Impatient. Be a good boy.’

Javier lunges a sleek finger into Yuzuru’s entrance, a second following into the wet, tight warmth, the ring of muscles twitching and engulfing them even more. Yuzuru’s cries resonates with the thunder when he crisscrosses around the walls and hits the prostate, a spot that made him sing.

Javier could hear it for eternity and beyond. He bites Yuzuru’s buttock, hard, before licking it with the utmost fondness and his tongue traces the rim. He pops a small strawberry in, feeding him and his insides.

‘Isn’t this much better than shortcake?’

Yuzuru only nods.

 

 

The storm continues outside, each drop stronger and more tenacious than the previous one. The lightning illuminates the night sky and the thunder shakes the ground and the window panes of the bathroom. They are both on the tub, too small for two grown-up bodies, Javier’s legs extended to the sides so Yuzuru could fit in and with him. The steam tattooed red spots on his skin.

‘Has Brian told you?’ Javier couldn’t stop imagining they were patches of strawberries and he kissed them on Yuzuru’s back.

‘I know.’

‘Will you come?’

‘Brian doesn’t trust me.’

‘Brian doesn’t trust _me_.’

Yuzuru turned around, splashing some of the hot bath water on the floor. ‘Why?’

‘He’s afraid I’m too smitten with someone.’

‘Who?’

Javier plays with Yuzuru’s hair, parting it to the left. The young man leans on the touch, kissing his hand.

‘The _rain_.’

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated. I promise I will update my other works... soon.


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